


I Know

by someonestolemyshoes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Eremika - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Smut, weak smut because i'm so awkward at writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonestolemyshoes/pseuds/someonestolemyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pushes away from her and paces the room, eyes burning and bright and furious. She watches him, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and folds her arms over her chest. She feels suddenly very bare without her gear. </p>
<p>He stops then, abrupt, and twists to face her. </p>
<p>And then he’s grabbing her again, this time with one hand fisted in the back of her hair and the other clamped around her bruised waist. </p>
<p>And he’s kissing her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know

**Author's Note:**

> eyyy this is the first eremika fic I ever did and I'm gonna post it here to make up for my lack of writing anything new

“What the  _fuck_ , Mikasa?” 

Mikasa rolls her eyes and fiddles with the attachments on her gear, letting the sword blocks and gas canisters fall to the floor. Eren stands in the doorway, fists pressed into the sides of his thighs. She ignores him, unfastens her cape and slips her jacket from her arms, laying both articles on the end of the bed. 

“What the hell did you do that for?” He tries again, lips snarling, arms shaking. Mikasa works the buckle on the chest strap of her gear and kicks her boots from her feet. She’s cool in her dismissal of him. 

The skin of her chest stings where the belt has sat, and her shoulders ache as she pushes the straps up and off. There’s no graceful way to remove the gear; she follows her standard routine of slipping the top section away and shimmying out of the rest, all the while fully aware of Eren’s eyes boring into her. She’s learned it’s best to refuse to acknowledge him when he’s angry.   
  
“Mikasa, you fucked up. I  _told_  you to stay out of the way. I  _told_ you. Why can’t you listen to me, for once? One fucking time.” 

She bites back the bitter retort behind her teeth. There’s a pounding in her head and a throb at her temple, and she can feel the belts pull at every sustained bruise as she tugs them down her thighs. She knows he’s not misguided in his anger, this time, and for that reason her patience wears even thinner than usual. She doesn’t like being wrong. 

“Look at the state of you,” he says, a hiss in his tone, as he gestures to her  _everything_  with a wave of his hand. 

“I know,” she snaps, balancing on one foot and pulling her belts away from the other, “ I know. I fucked up. Do you  _have_  to rub it in? I made a mistake, and I’m paying for it.” 

“Damn right you fucked up. I warned you it wouldn’t be safe, but no. No, you know better than everyone else. You’re the  _strongest_  and the  _fastest_  and things couldn’t  _possibly_  go wrong for you.”

“I trust you,” she says, and Eren doesn’t give her a second to continue. 

“Well you shouldn’t!” He snaps, stepping into the room. He invades her personal space and his eyes flit from the scar on her cheek to the bruise on her temple. “I’m not always in control of the damn titan, you know that.” 

She brings a hand to her cheek and pulls her hair over the thick pink line marring the flesh. 

“I could have  _killed_ you, do you understand that? If the captain hadn’t acted when he did I might have. I told you to  _stay out of the way_.”   
  
“I get it,” she mumbles, and for the first time in a long while she feels like a scolded child. “I messed up.” 

“What would I have done? Hm?” He grips her face between his hands, fingers pressing against the fresh bruises hard enough to make her vision swim. “What would I have done if I’d come out of that fucking titan to find you dead. To find out  _I_ had killed you.” 

“Well, you didn’t, so-.” 

“You’re missing the point!” 

He pushes away from her and paces the room, eyes burning and bright and furious. She watches him, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and folds her arms over her chest. She feels suddenly very bare without her gear. 

He stops then, abrupt, and twists to face her. 

And then he’s grabbing her again, this time with one hand fisted in the back of her hair and the other clamped around her bruised waist. 

And he’s kissing her. 

He’s demanding, tongue probing and teeth clacking and she feels her lip catch between them, hard enough to pinch and she wonders if she might be bleeding. But she kisses him back. 

Her hands smooth their way up his spine and grab onto the back plate of his gear, short fingernails scraping against the fabric of his shirt. Eren pants his breath into her mouth and she swallows around the dryness at the back of her throat. 

He drags a hand from her waist to her hip, two fingers hooking into the back pocket of her trousers and yanking her closer. His thumb presses hard into her hip bone and she sucks in a breath, nipping her teeth down on his bottom lip hard enough to make him groan. 

_This isn’t right_ , she thinks, even as her fingers tunnel up into his hair,  _we shouldn’t be doing this_. 

Next thing she knows she’s biting and sucking at his bottom lip while her hands fight with the chest strap of his gear. She tugs at the buckle until it comes loose and pushes the straps back off of his shoulders. 

His shirt comes next, pulled up from under the hip straps and twisted up off of his head. She takes it as a good sign when he lifts his arms to let her drag the sleeves down, and his fingers pull at her hips as soon as he’s free of the material, slamming her into him and biting at her bottom lip again. 

She feels his hands everywhere; they slip from her hips to her ass and the back of her thighs, back up her sides and along her ribs, around her back and into her hair, grazing the side of her neck and chest and then there’s the  _rip_  of buttons pulling from fabric and he’s pushing her shirt back off of her shoulders. 

Mikasa reaches her hands and traces the lines his gear has left across his chest and shoulders and he does the same across her sides, hissing at the purpling bruises spreading across her ribs; they have nothing to do with the gear, and it’s a painful reminder of how much danger she put herself in. 

She doesn’t really register when the button pops on her trousers, or when Eren yanks the fabric down her thighs, but she’s all too aware of the fingers that dive between her legs as soon as he has enough space and she’s forced up onto her toes at the suddenness of his touch. A whimper slithers from the back of her throat when his fingers settle into a rhythm against her. 

She has her eyes closed, head tipped back and voice keening at his touch, and even though she can’t see him she can  _feel_  his eyes on her face. He slows himself down, then, cupping a hand against her back and pulling her closer, his other hand still trapped between them and dragging punishing circles against her. 

She breathes out a soft  _Eren_  against the lips that hover over hers and he rewards her with a quick peck, pulling back to watch her face. She can feel herself blushing with every rock of her hips, every quiver of her thighs or jump of her breath. 

She can feel him pressing into her leg, hard and hot and trapped in the confines of his clothes and her cheeks heat a little more; she remembers reading the books Armin brought them, back in Shinganshina, the one’s they’d giggled at as children, with the odd anatomy drawings and the explanations of  _what goes where_  and why. She wonders if maybe, Eren has read more than her, for his fingers are confident when they slip beneath her underwear and press into the hot, wet space they find. She sucks in another breath and lets it shudder out as he sets a pace that she knows will have her panting. 

“Have you done this before?” 

She doesn’t know what the correct answer is. She’s never been with another person, but she’s certainly learned her own body over the years and she isn’t sure whether it’s alright to own up to that. All she can do is whimper and grind her hips onto his hand. 

His mouth comes next. 

She’s on her back on the bed, the fabric of her discarded cloak beneath her and her legs over Eren’s shoulders. This is new, and good, and she can’t coherently express anything other than  _yes_. 

She’s not sure how long it goes on for, but she’s shuddering and spent when he crawls his way up the bed. Mikasa gives him an exasperated glare when his face appears in front of her, lips and tongue pressing the taste of her into her own mouth, one hand holding his weight above her and the other tugging at his belt and the button of his pants. She’s less nervous than she’d expected to be, and there’s a bubble of pure excitement in her gut that promptly bursts when he frees himself and she sees the size of him. 

“That,” she pants, “is not going to fit.” 

Eren smacks his lips to hers once, twice, and pulls back. 

“Babies come outta there,” he says, and she watches his hand slide over himself, eyes dropping shut. “I think it’ll fit.”

“That is not encouraging,” she says, flatly, and she reaches a tentative finger out to touch him. 

“As much as I’d love for you to return the favour,” Eren says on a groan, hips rising to meet her even as he presses her seeking hand away, “I don’t think this is going to last all that long as it is. I don’t need a helping hand.” 

Mikasa nods, and swallows, hard. Eren’s hand finds the space between her legs again and he presses one, then two fingers into her. The third stings at first, but after a minute she’s panting and writhing against the mattress. Eren removes his hand and hooks his finger under her chin, pressing the softest kiss to her lips.

“Do you want to?” He asks, “I mean, we can stop if you don’t want to keep going.” 

She shakes her head and kisses him again. 

“I do,” she breathes. She cards her fingers through his hair and scrapes her nails against his scalp. Eren lets out a noise akin to a purr and she spreads her legs, cradling him between them. 

The next few minutes are a jumble of awkward laughter and fumbled, jerky movements as they try and find a rhythm that works for both of them. It wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined, nothing more than a sharp, tense pain as she stretched beyond anything she’d done before, and then it settled and she was left feeling  _full_. 

As Eren predicted, it doesn’t last all that long, and Mikasa doesn’t finish, but she’d hardly expected anything miraculous. Still, Eren mutters apologies against her skin between every small peck he gives her, traveling from her lips to her cheeks and down her neck and across her chest until she’s giggling, hands curled over his shoulders and thighs pulled up against his hips. 

He makes his way back to her mouth and nudges his forehead to hers. 

“Please,” he says, quiet and serious once more, “please don’t ever do what you did today again. You scared the living shit out of me.” 

She swallows, eyes meeting his, and kisses him softly on the mouth. 

“I won’t,” she breathes. “I won’t.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Tastefully skirting my way around writing actual smut yeee


End file.
